


Caught in the Rain

by annatheginger



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annatheginger/pseuds/annatheginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“To let go is not to deny but to accept. To let go is to fear less and love more.” –Terry Rogers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in the Rain

He had never liked the rain.  
  
The sounds of thunder stirred fear within him, a fear that struck him down like the Maker struck down the unfaithful. With lightning flashes came vivid flashes of his youth that left him shaking with anger and bitterness. The steady thrumming of the raindrops only forced him to remember the cold, sleepless nights of his childhood, nights that had left him feeling emptier than a child should ever feel.  
  
There would be some nights that he would wake up in a cold sweat, the sound of the rain having permeated his dreams and morphed them into realistic, overwhelming nightmares that were (in certain ways) worse than those of darkspawn. It was on those nights that she would be there, solid and real, to hold him while he trembled. Soft, whispered comforts in his ear would drown out the roar of the thunder, and her smiling, warm face in his sight would block the visions of lightning cutting through the sky.  
  
So, as he woke with a start in the heaviness of the night, he expected her to be there for him, expected her touch to be the first thing he felt - as opposed to the consuming emptiness. But, much to his mortification, he couldn’t sense the warm presence of his love; instead, the bedroll next to him was cold and vacant, leaving him familiarly alone.  
  
“Fera?” he whispered in the darkness, jumping as the tent illuminated for the briefest and most terrifying of moments. “Where are you?” he asked, knowing full and well that, wherever she had wandered off to, she couldn’t hear him. Shifting his body slightly, he groped at the sides of the tent for his small lantern, hoping that a bit of light would ease his the rising anxiety in his chest.  
  
When he found the lamp (and the small box of matches beside it), he struck a match, lighting the wick inside the glass globe and putting out the match’s tiny flame. The interior of the tent was completely flooded by the light of the lantern, soothing him some.  
  
With heartbeat pounding in his eardrums and adrenaline pumping through his veins, he crawled to the entrance of the tent and pulled back the flap, attempting to find Fera’s silhouette through the wall of rain. At the edge of the clearing a few paces away, he could barely make out what he thought was the outline of a person. The figure was shifting and moving in the downpour, with outstretched arms and an inviting stance.  
  
“Fera!” he called out, though the deafening rumble of the rain absorbed her name entirely. Holding out his hand tentatively, the dense droplets fell and danced menacingly on his skin, taunting him and forcing him to retract his appendage. “Fera?” he yelled with more force at the shape of the person, hoping that, if it was her, she would hear him and return to the tent immediately.  
  
The wind howled and shook the structure of the shelter, matching the shaking of his stiff and aching body. And so, unsure of what to do, he simply waited as the petrifying sounds and sights threated to engulf him.  
  
The rain began to slow, the frequency of the sounds on top of the tent decreasing. As time passed, his fear grew, as did the worry for the woman he loved. After much deliberation, he decided to go out to search for her.  
  
Opening the tent flap again, he shivered slightly as the wind blew drops on his face. Though the rain was a little less forceful now, it still seemed impossibly great and encompassing. Leaning outside, he pushed himself to a standing position, seeing as the tent was no longer confining him.  
  
He could feel the out-of-control thrumming of his heart, and he took a deep breath as if there would never be enough oxygen. He began to walk away from the safety of the tent and towards the still-stationary figure, who was swaying slightly in the rain.  
  
“Feralyn?” he said firmly as he approached the form, beginning to make out the familiar features of his love. The delicate – yet strong – curve of the waist, the long lean legs, the caramel color of her hair – though darkened by the rain. “Fera?”  
  
She turned to look at him, her immediate expression and posture one of defense and shock. As she recognized him (despite the rain), her stiff demeanor softened, her face smoothing out. “Alistair?” she asked, her voice raised to compensate for the rain. “What are you doing out here?”  
  
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said rigidly, his body quaking from the gravity of his fear. “You could catch your death out here.”  
  
“And you’re afraid of the rain,” she said simply, cocking a hip and crossing her arms.  
  
“Terrified, actually,” he attempted to joke, though his voice was obviously strained. “Are you going to tell me why you’re out here?” he asked.  
  
“If you tell me why you’re afraid of the rain,” she voiced pointedly, her eyebrows lifting inquisitively.  
  
He sighed heavily, knowing what she was trying to do. True, he had never told her about the cause of his phobia, though he knew she thought and worried about it constantly. Whenever she had asked, he would use humor to deflect her question, as he always did.  
  
“Fine,” he exhaled. “I’ll tell you. _Inside_ the tent,” he tried to convince her.  
  
“No. Tell me here,” she said, and he inwardly cursed her stubbornness.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I love the rain,” she said with a smile.  
  
“There’s no reason to,” he said, shaking his head.  
  
“Why, Alistair?”  
  
“Because to me, rain means abandonment,” he said harshly, his voice increasing slightly with the combination of anger and fear. She stood there, staring at him with a confused and worried expression on her face, making his own relax. “Whenever… whenever Isolde was mad at me,” he said, “she would force me to sleep outside, in the storms.”  
  
Fera’s appearance changed immediately to one of compassion and understanding. “Oh, Alistair…” she murmured, moving closer as the rain continued to surround them.  
  
“Storms like this… it only reminds me of how unwanted I am,” he admitted, his voice breaking. He was suddenly very thankful for the rain as tears fell down his cheeks, mixing in with the water and dripping off his jaw.  
  
“Oh, _emma lath_ … You _are_ wanted,” she said, reaching up to cup his face with both of her hands. “I love you,” she said plainly, “and you are wanted. By me.”  
  
He laughed slightly, leaning into her caress. “I love you, too,” he said, feeling lighter even as the rain poured onto him.  
  
She paused for a moment to kiss his face, and then she asked, “Do you want to know why I love the rain?”  
  
“Sure,” he softly.  
  
“One year when I was very young, all the clans had a meeting that we call _Arlathvhen_ ,” she began, a sweet smile on her face. “When it began to rain, the children and I went to play in it. We danced around and rejoiced in being alive. Soon, the adults were joining us, and we all chanted _Vir Tanadhal_ ,” she explained. When he gave her a confused look, she simply laughed.  
  
“It says: fly straight and do not waver,” she listed, moving her hands to his and pulling them upwards. “Bend,” she continued, moving his arms out so his stance resembled her previous one, “but never break.” She let him soak in the rain as she had, and he heard his heart slow as he began to feel the refreshing and cleansing properties of the raindrops.  
  
“And…” she interrupted his thoughts, bringing his hands to rest on her waist. She brought her own up to press against his chest as he pulled her closer, leaning his forehead against hers. “Together,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed, “we are stronger than one.” The last word was breathed against his lips as their mouths connected blissfully, bringing them together.  
  
The rain could pour and the sky could fall, but he didn’t care. He was beginning to let go of fear and embrace love.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for a contest over at deviantart!


End file.
